


At the Bottom of Everything

by WastedAndReady



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dubious understanding of trauma wound symptoms and treatment, Gen, Gross mischaracterization of rural hydrologic infrastructure, Hurt/Comfort, Just a Tiny Sprinkling of Tim/Steph, Mostly Hurt (The Comfort is Implied), The rest of the Batfam has cameos, Tim Drake is Red Robin, well well well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastedAndReady/pseuds/WastedAndReady
Summary: "It had been more than six hours since Dick’s distress call. Since then, no one had heard from him."Red Robin finds Nightwing wounded and in a dangerous situation. With help far away, it's up to Tim to rescue his brother.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161
Collections: Dick Grayson Whump





	At the Bottom of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time in the pre-New 52/Rebirth continuity, with a few tweaks...  
Damian is Robin. Tim is Red Robin. Cass is Batgirl. Stephanie is Spoiler. Jason is Red Hood. Babs is Oracle. Dick is Nightwing. Kate is Batwoman. And the Batfamily is mostly on good terms with Jason.
> 
> Also, I would like to declare that it is canon in this story that Tim is wearing his second Robin uniform. It's not really relevant to the story at all. That's just my favorite Tim look.
> 
> Fic title comes from "At the Bottom of Everything," by Bright Eyes.

It had been more than six hours since Dick’s distress call. Since then, no one had heard from him. Oracle was able to pinpoint a location for Dick from around the same time as the call, but Batman and Robin found the alley empty when they arrived. By ten, Red Robin and Batgirl had been called in to help look. By midnight, Spoiler, Red Hood, and Batwoman had been enlisted as well.

Red Robin was following a lead that took him far outside of Gotham. Through his earpiece, he could hear occasional updates: Batman and Robin were interviewing potential witnesses who had eaten at a restaurant around the corner from the alley, Red Hood was shaking down low-level mobsters for hearsay, Oracle was reviewing traffic camera footage, Spoiler and Batgirl were each staking out a couple of usual suspects, and no one was quite sure what Batwoman was doing. Comm chatter was subdued.

Tim rode away from the city, his motorcycle gliding silently around mountain curves. Trees stood as giant shadows on either side of the road and the asphalt had a soft luminescence in the bright moonlight. Patches of dirty snow clung to either side of the road.

Just after mile marker 43, Tim pulled onto a small private road and turned his headlight off. �It was hard for him to tell if anyone had driven through recently. The coarse gravel of the country road gave no discernible sign. He could barely see the bumps and divots ahead of him as he rode forward in the moonlight.

Shortly, Tim passed through an open gate and came to a humble clapboard house. It was two stories tall with peeling white paint and rotting roof shingles. In the front yard, a rusted pickup truck stood next to a leaf-covered wood pile. The house was dark and quiet. Tim was uncertain if anyone was home or not.

Tim turned off his motorcycle and pushed it a few feet into the woods. “I’m at the address,” he whispered into his comm, “I’ll let you know if I find anything.” “Roger,” came the reply.

Tim moved through the trees, circling wide around the left side of the house until he came to the back. Behind the house was an overgrown lawn with a rusty swing set. A patch of snow ran along the edge of the tree line and a few narrow footpaths led into the forest from the lawn. 

Tim continued through the woods, cutting a path parallel to the edge of the lawn as he familiarized himself with the scene. Every step was deliberate. He barely made a sound as he worked his way over the rocks, twigs, and dead leaves of the forest floor.

The moon behind Tim lit the back door of the house and faded siding clearly. He could see cracks in the paint and faint floral patterns on the window curtains. The door had a simple knob lock and each window appeared to be the old double-hung style. Unless there was an alarm system, the building did not appear to be particularly secure.

Tim glanced down as he crossed over one of the footpaths that led away from the house and into the woods. Something caught his eye and he crouched down to get a better look. There, glistening on top of hard-packed dirt, was a tiny, perfectly round shape. It was a single drop of blood. 

Tim’s pulse quickened. He looked down the path and into the woods. He saw another drop. And then another. He followed the trail down a short hill. It was more difficult to pick up the drops under the canopy of the trees, but they continued down the path, hitting dirt, rocks, and leaves at regular intervals every few inches.

Looking ahead, Tim saw that the path ended in an open area around a small stone structure. It was round, approximately three feet in diameter and two and a half feet tall, and was covered on top by a piece of plywood with a handle screwed in. He stared at the structure, baffled, for half a second before he realized, it was a well.

Tim surveyed the area. Seeing no one, he raced to the well and pulled the plywood off of it. The circle of rocks that made up the walls of the well lined a hole that descended deep into the ground, beyond where Tim could see. Moonlight only reached about 10 feet down before it was cut off by shadow. The hole smelled damp and earthy.

Leaning forward against the edge of the well, Tim peered downwards. A rock came loose from the wall under him and tumbled into the blackness. He did not hear it splash into any water at the bottom.

“Nightwing!” Tim called quietly, as he reached for his flashlight. There was no answer from below. He whipped out the flashlight and clicked it on, shinning it down into the dark. At the very bottom of the hole, the white light of the flashlight illuminated an organic shape. It was wrapped in tight black fabric and topped with a mess of black hair. Tim inhaled sharply.

“Dick!” Tim yelled. The shape did not move.

Frantic, Tim clicked on his comm. “I, I think I found him,” he stuttered.  
There was overlapping noise in his ear.  
“Where are you?!”  
“What the hell happened?”  
“We’ll come to you.”  
“Is he ok?"  
"What's your status?"

“I’m at that address," Tim said, "outside of town--"  
“Sharing coordinates now,” Babara interjected.  
"Is he all right?" demanded Damian.  
“I’m not sure. He’s... he’s at the bottom of a well. I’m going down to check.”  
“A well? Is there anyone else there?” Jason asked.  
“No, maybe, I don't know,” stammered Tim.  
“We’re on our way,” Bruce said curtly.

The comm went silent, but Tim knew better than to assume that everyone else had quieted down. Babara had likely moved their chatter to another channel so that they could strategize while Tim focused on getting to his brother.

Tim looked around for an anchor point for his line. The walls of the well were unstable and no tree branches directly overhung the opening. He ended up wrapping the cable around the trunk of a nearby tree and then threading it over the lip of the well. He hoped that the tension of the line running across the top of the rock wall and over the edge wouldn’t loosen any more stones.

“Dick,” he called, as he lowered himself backwards over the edge, “I’m coming down!”

Tim put his flashlight in his mouth and stepped his feet down the side of the well as he descended. He had to lean his upper body forward in the cramped space, making it difficult to counter-balance the weight of his lower body. The well walls became slick and his feet began to slip as he passed out of the moonlight and into shadow.

Tim looked down between his legs. The beam of the flashlight illuminated the area beneath him. He could see someone nestled awkwardly into the small space at the bottom of the well. The figure was curled on their back, with their shoulders against the stone wall of the well and head drooping forward. The head was motionless. Below it, Tim could clearly see the bright blue of the Nightwing insignia.

“Dick,” he called again, “can you hear me?” His breath hung in the air.

There was no response.

Dick’s knees were bent towards his head and his feet were wedged against the other side of the well. His arms lay on his chest with his hands bound.

When Tim reached the bottom of the well, he gingerly placed one foot on each side of Dick's torso, squeezing his feet between Dick's body and the walls of the well. He felt the squish of mud and water under the soles of his boots as he stood upright and transferred his full weight to his legs. He unhooked his line, letting it dangle against the well wall.

In the tight space, it was difficult to get a good look at the shape beneath him. Tim dropped into a squat and hovered over Dick. Light from the flashlight glinted off of ice crystals that clung to the side of the well.

“Dick,” he pleaded. 

This time, he heard a low groan. Tim exhaled in relief and gently reached out to touch his brother’s head, softly threading his fingers through Dick’s hair. Dick's head bobbed stiffly in response and then lifted with a loud exhalation.

“Shit.” Tim swore softly

Dick’s eyes were squeezed shut against the light of the flashlight. Blood oozed from underneath the upper right corner of his mask. It had crusted over the far right side of his face. His lower lip was swollen.

“Hey, Dick, hey, you ok?” 

Dick opened his eyes and blinked dazedly. Tim turned the flashlight on his own face, his other hand still resting lightly on Dick’s head.

“Hey man, it’s me. You ok? What happened?”  
“Hey Timmy," Dick murmured, "been waiting for you guys.”  
“We’ve been looking for you,” Tim smiled. “What happened?” he asked gently.  
“Was jumped,” mumbled Dick.  
“Somebody jumped you?” Tim was skeptical. “Were you napping?”  
“No. Shot.”  
“What?! You were shot?”

Frantic, Tim searched Dick's body with the flashlight. He gasped when he saw it: a perfect hole in the abdomen of Dick’s uniform. The surrounding area was soaking wet. Tim jerked at the collar of his cape until it came loose and then balled the whole thing up and shoved it forcefully against the hole. Dick inhaled sharply, gritted his teeth, and tilted his head back.

Tim spoke into the comm. “Oracle, it’s Nightwing. He’s been shot.”  
There was a beat and then she responded, “Patching you through.”  
“I found him. We’re in the well. He’s injured,” Tim told the others.  
There was a clamor of overlapping noise and then Bruce's stern voice came through. "Red Robin, what is Nightwing's status?"

“He was shot--” Tim heard gasps and a smattering of cursing— “Lower right abdomen." He felt around Dick's back and Dick inhaled with a hiss. "No exit wound," Tim added, "not sure of organ damage.”  
“It’s probly fine,” groaned Dick, inaudible to the others. He tipped his head forward and it fell back onto his chest.  
“Oracle, tell the Cave to prep the med bay,” Bruce said. “Stay put, Red Robin. We’re en route.”  
“I have to get him out of here now,” Tim responded. “He might be bleeding out and it’s below freezing down here.”  
“Red Robin—"

Bruce’s voice was cut off as a huge rock knocked against the side of Tim’s head, hitting his earpiece. Static buzzed in his ear and blood began to run down the right side of his face. Tim turned to look up towards the top of the well. In the moonlight, he could see that stones were coming loose from the top of the well wall and falling through the air towards them. One smashed painfully into his shoulder and another hit his back. 

Tim saw the silhouette of a figure leaning over the opening of the well, toppling rocks inward. "Hey!" he yelled, "we're down here!" Rocks continued to rain down.

Tim quickly turned his back to the falling stones and drove his knees into the mud on either side of Dick’s body. He braced his elbows against the wall and covered the back of his head with his forearms, shielding Dick from the onslaught.

The buzzing in his ear continued as the rocks fell, hammering into his back and arms. The well was filled with echos as they thudded and bounced against each other. Dick was shouting something into Tim's chest, but Tim couldn’t hear it. The cumulative weight of the falling stones drove his body downward, forcing him to collapse completely onto Dick. Tim balled his hands into fists to protect his fingers, but he could feel the backs of his hands being crushed.

The pain and noise continued until Dick and Tim were completely buried. The last few rocks tumbled downward and Tim could hear the muffled sounds of them bouncing across the top of the pile. As the sound faded, an overwhelming silence took over. Even Tim's earpiece had stopped buzzing.

At first, Tim didn’t move. He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing. His face was pressed into Dick’s hair and he could smell the cedar scent of Dick’s shampoo. Tim slowed his breath. He focused on the feeling of Dick’s body breathing under him.

“Okay,” he breathed, “we’re okay.”

They stayed like that for a while: perfectly still under the pile of rocks, breathing heavily together. Tim wasn't certain how long they should wait. He wanted to give their assailant the impression that the attack had been successful, but he knew that he needed to get Dick out of the well. He wasn't sure that Batman would reach them before Dick bled out or before hypothermia became a concern. By Tim's math, his brother had been shot six-and-a-half hours ago and thrown down a freezing well sometime within the past five hours.

Tim slowly pulled his arms free, allowing the weight of the rocks above him to drive directly into his head and neck. He straightened his legs and upper back slightly, creating some space between himself and Dick. There was a grinding noise as the rocks above him shifted. Dick mumbled.

Tim positioned his arms under Dick’s armpits and transferred his weight to his bent legs, compressing like a spring. "Okay, we're going," he announced into Dick's hair. Dick vocalized something that sounded like an affirmation, the sound muffled by Tim's chest.

With one motion, Tim exploded up, grunting as he pulled Dick upwards by the armpits. Dick groaned and rocks rolled backwards off of Tim. They grappled clumsily against each other as Dick attempted to get his feet beneath his body. After a moment, Dick found his footing and they both pushed up together. Stones tumbled around them and they were left standing upright, knee-deep in rocks.

Dick was more alert now. He leaned back against the wall of the well, panting heavily. 

“That sucked,” Dick said.  
Tim exhaled a laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You okay?”  
Dick could barely stand. He felt nauseous and pain radiated sharply out from his midsection. “Yeah. You?" he exhaled.  
Tim’s whole body ached. He was sweating in the frigid cold. “Yeah.” He nodded.

Tim and Dick were silent for a moment as they caught their breaths. Tim looked upwards. They were still far below ground level.

“Shit,” he remarked, suddenly.   
“What?” Dick asked.   
“My line’s been cut.”  
"Use your backup," said Dick, as his body slid downward along the wall of the well.  
"I... I don't have one."  
"You don't have a backup?" Dick teased. "I thought I knew you."  
"I, uh, left it on the bike," Tim admitted.  
"Superboy is a bad influence," Dick said with mock sincerity.

Tim looked back up at the opening of the well. They were both sitting ducks as long as they stayed put. “Dick,” he said softly, “we gotta climb out of here.”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “Ok,” he responded.

One at a time, Tim pulled each of his legs out of the stones. He stood on top of the pile and offered his forearms to Dick. They were still throbbing with pain. Dick gripped Tim's arms tightly with his bound hands. Tim clenched his teeth and inhaled as Dick tried to pull his legs out from the pile. Instead, he fell forward into Tim, causing Tim to stumble backwards and crack his head against the wall of the well. Tim cried out sharply.

Dick leaned against Tim, catching his breath for a moment. "Sorry," he said.  
"It's okay," Tim responded. "I get the appeal of a helmet, though."  
"Not a great fashion choice," commented Dick.  
Tim looked down at him skeptically. "You are not allowed to judge anyone's fashion choices."  
"Haters gonna hate."

Tim bent over as best he could in the tight space and pulled on Dick's left leg. Dick pushed against Tim's back for leverage and, one at a time, they extracted each of Dick legs. He immediately sat down at Tim's feet, breathing heavily again.

Dick was still thinking about his old Nightwing suit. "You know, I really liked that look," he panted. Tim, wisely, said nothing.

Tim reached into his belt for a knife to cut the rope on Dick's wrists, then paused, eyeing the opening of the well again. Dick was exhausted and losing blood. Tim didn't feel certain that his brother could climb out by himself.

Tucking his knife away, Tim turned around in the tight space and crouched with his back to Dick. Dick regarded Tim's back and pursed his lips. He was about to say something, but thought better of it, sighing loudly instead.

"You'd never catch Damian doing this," he complained as he looped his hands over Tim's head.  
"I wouldn't let Damian get his hands this close to my neck," responded Tim.  
"Aw, come on," Dick chided, as he attempted to shift his weight onto Tim. 

Tim scooted under Dick, foisting Dick's body onto his back. Dick made a hissing noise and inhaled sharply.

Tim pushed his hands and forearms against the stones in front of him and the bottoms of his feet against the wall behind and below him, maintaining a tension that kept his body wedged against all sides. Dick was draped awkwardly on top of him. His torso rested on Tim's back, with his bound hands hanging loosely around Tim's neck and his legs drooping over either side of Tim's body.

Tim started to climb. He lifted his limbs one at a time, moving each one up a few inches and then pushing it back against the wall of the well. He was sweating almost immediately. Dick tried to keep his head up as they slowly inched upwards, but it felt heavy. He lowered it onto the back of Tim's head. 

"You ok?" Tim grunted.  
"Yeah. I'm..." Dick trailed off.  
"What?"   
"This seems hard," Dick observed, his voice quiet.  
Tim chuckled as sweat dripped down his face, "yeah, a little bit."  
"Rude."  
"What?"  
"Rude to cut your line."  
"The nerve of this asshole," Tim responded.  
"Those cables... they're not cheap."  
Tim laughed lightly, but Dick sounded weary. “Bruce can afford it,” Tim said.  
“It’s... it’s the principle of the thing,” Dick mumbled.

They continued upwards in silence. The only sounds in the cramped space were Tim's heavy breathing and his occasional low swearing.

Half-way up, Tim paused to catch his breath. His arms and legs were still pressed outwards against the walls of the well, his muscles taught with tension. 

"How you doing?" he asked Dick.  
There was no response.  
"Dick?," he called over his shoulder.

Dick didn't say anything. In the stillness, however, Tim could still feel small puffs of breath against the back of his neck.

"We're almost there," Tim breathed. 

He took a gulp of air and started moving again. His muscles ached and his fingers were bleeding where they had pressed into jagged rocks. As they ascended out of shadow and into the moonlit portion of the well, Tim could no longer make out the pile of stones below them. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. His body was trembling. 

Tim paused again to catch his breath. He wasn't sure how long they had been climbing. It felt like hours, but he was certain that it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. Craning his neck to look up, he could see that they were closing in on the top of the well. Three feet above them, a ledge teetered in and out of his vision. Tim lowered his head, gritted his teeth and exhaled. His body started swaying as he inched one hand up the wall.

Tim felt Dick's body start to slip. "Dick!" he gasped. There was still no reply.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and shifted his body to counter-balance Dick's weight, but it wasn't enough. Inch-by-inch, movement-by-movement, Dick's body began to slide slowly down Tim's back as they plodded higher.

All at once, their balance shifted. Dick slid completely backwards, caught only by his bound hands looped around Tim's neck. His momentum pulled them both downwards and Tim wheeled his hands wildly towards the ledge, just barely catching it as Dick's full weight pulled down on his neck.

Tim coughed as he clung onto the ledge. He tried to pull them both up, to shift Dick's weight off of his neck, but it took all of his strength just to grip the crumbling rocks above his head. Gasping for air, Tim fought upwards against the pull of gravity. His fingers scrabbled uselessly to find a more solid purchase.

Tim felt dizzy. His vision began to blur. He imagined that the void below them was a black hole, its gravitational pull increasing exponentially with every passing second. He saw himself plunging into the darkness below and being ripped beyond the space-time event horizon, every atom in his body crushed into a singularity. _Well_, his oxygen-starved brain reasoned, _at least I won't be alone_. His hands slipped off the ledge.

Something caught Tim's arms. His body jerked as his downward momentum was interrupted. There was yelling above his head and his feet were tingling. Everything seemed to be happening both slowly and quickly. His body started to move upwards. He still couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, the pressure on Tim's neck was released. He inhaled deeply. He coughed and sputtered as he felt hands hauling his body up over the ledge and twisting him. Shapes shifted in and out of focus and voices echoed around his head. He could feel himself being laid down on his back.

"Tim! Tim!" someone was calling. He looked towards the voice. He was still breathing heavily when a figure resolved itself from color and shape. It was Jason. His red helmet gleamed in the moonlight as he leaned over Tim. Tim groaned and Jason exhaled. 

“Hey kiddo,” Jason said warmly. He pulled off his helmet and Tim could see that he was smiling slightly. "You're a fucking badass." 

Above them, dark tree branches cut jagged lines across the sky. Tim looked around and he could see someone else, _Bruce?_, bent over a prone figure on the ground. Tim blinked his eyes. Batman was leaning over Dick and speaking softly. Both of his hands were pressed hard against Dick's abdomen. Dick was motionless. 

Tim pushed himself up as Robin came charging into the clearing. Batgirl and Spoiler were close behind. Damian immediately squatted down next to Dick as Stephanie leaned over Jason. Cass hovered behind Stephanie.

"Father," Damian reported to Bruce, "we apprehended the suspect inside the house."  
"He's not going anywhere," Steph added ominously.

Damian looked over at Tim. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a loud groan from Dick. For an instant, everyone froze. Tim saw Damian drop his head closer to Dick’s face. Dick groaned again and squirmed weakly against Bruce's hands.

“Richard? Can you hear me?” Damian demanded. Dick opened his eyes, blinking dazedly at Damian.   
“We’re here, Dick,” Bruce said quietly. 

Dick lifted his head slightly and focused on Bruce. He said something that Tim couldn't hear. Bruce’s shoulders relaxed as he responded, turning to look at Tim. 

"He's all right,” Bruce affirmed, “You're both going to be all right." Tim thought Bruce might be smiling, but he wasn't sure.

Tim closed his eyes as he laid back down. His aching body seemed to sink into the soil below him. He let the voices and sounds of activity around him melt away from his awareness. A cool breeze brushed his face.

Suddenly, Tim felt a hand reach out for his. Without opening his eyes, he knew it was Steph. He closed his hand around hers. 

"Red Hood thinks I’m a badass," he told her.   
Stephanie shook her head and laughed. “He must have you confused with someone else.”  
“Please don’t tell him the truth,” Tim pleaded.   
“I won’t,” she whispered, smiling. She leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Tim exhaled deeply and squeezed Steph's hand.


End file.
